Of the Night
by xxBurningxx
Summary: [Vampire!Max AU] [Pricefield] Max Caulfield stares at her lack of reflection for an impossibly long expanse of time, meekly attempting to recall the last time she'd seen her own eyes looking back at her; she'd been thirteen when she last caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Now she's eighteen, attending Blackwell Academy, and trying her best to avoid Fate's devious schemes.
1. Prologue

**Story Note: This is not a typical shitty vampire story** **—or at least, I hope so** **. It has a plot and in-depth story. Max and Chloe's relationship will be building up _slowly._ This is something I feel the need to warn about; it'll be a long time before any true Pricefield action goes down, but I _promise_ that the wait will be worth it. Not only will we see their relationship actually develop, but there'll also be cuteness. Lots of it.**

 **I've compiled a list of information about the vampires in this story, which can be found at the bottom of my profile. While this info will be revealed throughout the story, it's worth looking at if you'd like to know these things beforehand.**

 **The story is rated T for the following reasons: swearing, dark/violent themes, angst, and sexual themes (hints and implications).**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Prologue**

 _The night is still, tranquil in its quiet beauty. The moon hangs over the treetops, visible in its full entirety as it casts a soft light over the forest. Somewhere in the distance, a lone owl hoots a solitary song as it sits upon a wooden perch in a tree up high. Besides its ominous avian calls, there are no other sounds that night except perhaps for the wind whispering through the leaves._

 _He usually would have been there on a night as lovely as this one. He enjoys feeding when the forest feels timeless, when the moon looms over his head in a way that makes him feel invincible. But he had received an important phone call approximately four hours ago, and now he waits impatiently in the lobby of the only hospital in Arcadia Bay. He passes the time by thinking about how he has the power to kill every single person in the building should he want to._

 _Hours later, a nurse calls his name, gesturing for him to follow. "They're exhausted," she says to him as he's lead through the cold hallways. "But they said that you should see her."_

 _"It's a girl?" he asks, blinking. The nurse nods, stopping in front of a door before gently pushing it open for him._

 _He steps inside and sees Vanessa there in the hospital bed. She looks like she's been to Hell and back. Despite that, he can't help but notice how impossibly happy she looks. He can see it in her eyes. Ryan is sitting by her, and he has that same blissful expression on his face as well as he gazes at the bundled wrap in Vanessa's arms._

 _He can't help but smile at them. He likes these humans. He really does. They aren't nearly as insufferable as most of the other blundering idiots of their kind._

 _"Hey," Vanessa says quietly. She makes a tiny nod with her head, commanding him to come closer. He shares a quick glance with Ryan, who grins at him like he's the happiest man in the world at that moment._

 _He walks up to the bedside and looks down, and his heart stops the moment he sees the child's face. She's beautiful in a way that he's never witnessed before and it makes his heart stop. He finds it difficult to pull his gaze away from her impossibly blue eyes._

 _Then Ryan chuckles. "Better watch out, Nessa, otherwise he might steal her away from us."_

 _He smiles, looking up at them. "What's her name?" he whispers. The feeling in his chest doesn't go away._

 _"Maxine," Vanessa says softly, gazing fondly upon her child._

 _It's in that moment that he knows what he needs to do. He knows what needs to be done to ensure that she is one day his. Suddenly the urge to turn the small child is overwhelming and he hastily takes a step back, a little alarmed by how strong his desires are. He takes in a deep breath and looks up at Ryan and Vanessa. "She's stunning."_

 _"We know," Vanessa whispers, smiling at him._

 _And unknown to them both is what he was going to do in three months to come. There was no way they could even fathom what he would do to their child, and how it would ultimately change her life forever._


	2. Chapter One

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Chapter One**

"You're up late," Max says, glancing over her shoulder. Her friend is sprawled out on the bed, messing around with something on her phone. It's almost two o'clock in the morning and usually Chloe would have crashed at that point, but instead she still seems to be wide awake in Max's dorm room.

The blue-haired girl doesn't even spare her a glance. "So are you."

Max scoffs in response and turns towards Chloe, throwing her a look. The other girl looks up and rolls her eyes. "Right, I forgot. You're a fucking night owl or whatever you wanna call it."

She laughs. It's less about being nocturnal or preferring to be awake at night and more about not _needing_ much sleep in the first place. Of course, Max doesn't—or rather, can't—tell the punk that. Instead she just asks, "Why are you still awake?"

Chloe shrugs, putting her phone to sleep and tossing it aside. "I dunno. Just not tired, I guess."

"Well, I'm probably gonna have to kick you out soon," Max says with a sigh, closing the composition book full of notes on her desk. "I need to cram more for a test tomorrow morning and I'd prefer to get more than just a couple hours of sleep." The prior is true, and in a way the latter is too. She can get away with no rest whatsoever—she's done it many times before—but she finds that sleep _does_ seem to help in terms of feeling better and more energized. It's especially nice when she's got important things going on at school.

"But _Max_ ," Chloe whines, drawing out her name. "It's so cozy here," she continues, pulling Max's comforter up to her chest and snuggling into the sheets. "You're seriously gonna kick me out and force me to sneak past security? It's hella cold out there too!"

Max stares at Chloe as she finds herself on the receiving end of an impossibly cute puppy dog pout. "Fine," she groans and then rolls her eyes as the other girl does a fist pump in the air. "But you've seriously got to stop crashing here. You're not even supposed to be here." Considering that Chloe is a former Blackwell student but was expelled two years prior to Max attending, it could probably get her in trouble for harboring someone who technically wasn't allowed on the campus. Then again, Chloe was constantly looming around the school and no one seemed to care, so maybe it isn't that big a deal. Regardless, Max doesn't want any unnecessary attention drawn to her.

"Whatever, I know you like having me here," Chloe says, a shit-eating grin on her face. Max huffs out an exasperated sigh, but there's a tiny smile on her lips nonetheless. She _does_ enjoy the blue-haired girl's company, even if her personality conflicts with Max's own introverted one a little. Really though, it's nice hanging out with her again.

Honestly, it feels like just the other day they were jumping around and playing like the little kids that they were, even though it had been a whopping five years since then. Max finds herself slipping into a trance, walking through her thoughts and reminiscing about the past times she'd shared with Chloe. There were so many good memories in her head, and so many of them had occurred... before all the weird changes to her body, some of which she still doesn't fully understand.

She sighs ruefully, still feeling guilty about leaving all those years ago. In many ways, she _had_ abandoned Chloe. Granted, she had good reasons for running away from Arcadia Bay (or in this case, begging her parents to move). It was right around the time that Max had started sleeping less and less, that her reflection started to fade away in the mirror and on some days her normally straight teeth would instead display sharp and noticeable canines instead.

At the time, she had panicked internally. Gradually, she no longer felt like she could stay at Arcadia Bay, and it began to feel less like home and more like a prison where all she could do was hide her condition from everyone each and every day. It got to a point where she couldn't stand living there anymore and she eventually broke, lying to her parents and telling them that she was being bullied. They had tried to contact the school but after much begging on her behalf, she finally convinced them that what she needed was a change of pace. New scenery, new school.

And so they had moved to Seattle. In retrospect, Max realizes that packing up and running probably wasn't her most thought-out plan... but she had been young and so confused by the things happening to her, and she had to admit that a new city where no one recognized her _did_ help a little bit in the process of figuring out what was going on and coming to terms with everything. It had pained her so much not being able to tell anyone, especially her best friend, about it.

A pinch of sadness runs through her heart as Max thinks about it. She had probably withdrawn from Chloe the most during that time. After all, if someone was going to notice the little things that were different about her, it would have been her best friend. And the idea of Chloe finding out that she was some kind of freak had scared the shit out of her.

Max runs a hand through her hair, pondering over her thoughts. She doesn't think she's a freak anymore, just... _differen_ t. Back then, it had taken her a while to realize that all her "symptoms" pointed to one thing, and when she did, naturally she fell into a pit of denial for a while. It wasn't until she was forced to drink blood for the first time that she fully came to terms with it and began to accept what she was.

She shakes her head a little. Even now, uttering the word in her head still feels a bit strange and surreal.

 _Vampire._

She isn't worried about Chloe figuring out what she is anymore. Over the years, she'd become pretty damn good at hiding her true nature from the world. Now, pretending to be human is just like breathing to her. In many ways she still considers herself one, even if it isn't particularly true. But that doesn't change the fact that she hates being unable to tell Chloe the truth, even now. She despises that she can't offer her friend a proper explanation as to why she was such a terrible friend all those years ago.

With a sigh, Max glances over at Chloe, who seems to have finally dozed off. She looks peaceful, her breathing soft and steady.

Max smiles at that. She's so grateful that she was able to find Chloe again and re-establish their friendship. Really, it had been mere chance—or perhaps fate—that they'd bumped into each other at the gas station almost two months ago. Admittedly, from the moment she arrived back in Arcadia Bay, she'd been thinking about contacting Chloe to see if she was still in the area. However, each time she wrote a text, she got nervous and overwhelmed with guilt, unable to bring herself to hit the send button.

She's just glad things worked themselves out. It's only natural that she still feels terrible about how things had gone down, and catching up with Chloe had made her feel even worse about it. Hearing of William's death in a brutal car accident hit her pretty hard. She had liked him a lot, mostly because of how nice and kind-spirited he was; it was fair to say that he'd been family, even. Seeing how it changed her friend had been alarming too, at first.

But now she knows that the same Chloe is still there, and she thinks that's why it was so easy for them to reconnect. Their conversations are as smooth as butter and it's boiled down to hanging out and laughing, just like the old days. It's so refreshing after her dull life in Seattle. Not that Seattle itself isn't awesome—because it is—but it's not like she had friends there. At least, she hadn't been close to anyone due to fear of being discovered.

Max sighs again as she stands up, smiling slightly. She didn't manage to do any more studying because she had been so lost in thought, but she figures that she'll be fine for the test tomorrow. She changes into her pajamas and turns off the light before slipping under the covers with her friend, appreciating the warmth that radiates off Chloe. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

And for the first time in a while, there isn't any fighting with herself to slip into unconsciousness. There is no staring at the ceiling for hours or constant twisting and turning before rest finds her. That night, she falls asleep almost effortlessly.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Yay for exposition chapters, yeah? I hope you guys enjoy it so far! I'm going to try to have updates be a weekly thing, although sometimes it might be a little longer, so I have time to keep writing ahead and not feel bad about not finishing a chapter haha.**


	3. Chapter Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Chapter Two**

She grunts as she climbs up into her truck, rubbing her arms as she quickly starts the engine and cranks the heater up. Chloe sits there for a few moments, sighing as the old car slowly starts spitting warmth onto her cold fingertips. She looks up at the school in front of her, her gaze lingering on its red brick walls, before backing out of her parking spot and pulling out of the driveway.

She thinks about how two years ago she'd been so glad to be leaving that place. She'd told herself she'd never go there again, for any reason whatsoever. Chloe huffs out a dry laugh. Now she's sneaking onto campus every few days or so just to hang out with her best friend while she studies. Shaking her head, she drives in the direction of her house. Usually the thought of returning fills her with dread but today she's oddly content with it.

Chloe parks on the street before bounding up to the entryway of her house. Using her keys, she unlocks the door and steps inside. "Mom?"

"In here," she hears Joyce call back from the kitchen. The aroma of sausage and eggs fill the air, the scent drifting throughout the house. Chloe's stomach rumbles in response to the delicious smell. She walks into the kitchen, grinning a little.

"What's up Mom? Hope there's enough there for me," she says, holding up a fist. Joyce gives a little eye roll but bumps her knuckles against her daughter's just to humor her.

"Of course," she replies, gesturing at the pans in front of her. One is almost full to the brim with scrambled eggs while the other contains sizzling sausage patties. "How was the sleep over with Max?"

"It was cool," Chloe replies, plucking a chunk of eggs from the pan and popping it in her mouth. To be honest, the blue-haired girl was still a bit surprised her mom even approved of her hanging out at Blackwell so much, especially over night; she has her unvoiced suspicions that Joyce is just glad she's finally chilling with someone she deems "a good influence." Of course, step-shit doesn't like her being on the school's campus, period, but she literally couldn't care less as to what he wants. And thinking of, there's no sign of her step-shit in the house, so she assumes that he's already at work to dictate the Blackwell security system. She chills with her mom for a while, feeling in a particularly good mood as they chat about random things over their breakfast.

Chloe actually enjoys her mom's company when her step-dad isn't around to fuck things up. When he isn't there having a power trip or some other bullshit, and he isn't mentioned at all, they can usually get through a bunch of conversations without any arguing. It's really nice, actually. Since her dad's death, sometimes it was hard to comfortably be in the presence of her mom, and so Chloe secretly treasures their little moments together.

Her mom leaves to work at the diner a little while later and Chloe soon finds herself alone in the house. She pretty much has the place to herself for the day until Joyce and Sergeant Douchebag get home from their respective jobs, which isn't going to be until much later that day. She pulls herself upstairs to her bedroom and collapses on her bed, pulling her phone out to check if she has any texts from Max. There aren't any.

She lies on her bed, and after a good expanse of time of just sitting there, she groans in boredom. In the past, it was easy for her to just get high and do nothing all day... but recently she's found that it's harder and harder for her to do that and actually enjoy it. Instead, she's found that all she does in her spare time is wait around for Max to get off school so they can hang out.

Chloe stares at the window as she thinks about how... _not sad_ she's been lately. The empty hole in her chest that has developed over the past years finally feels like it's being filled back up, bit by bit. The days of idly thinking about throwing herself off the roof have vanished now. It would take an idiot to not realize that Max is the reason behind that, and while Chloe is reckless and a little wild, she isn't dumb. She hums to herself as she picks up her phone and types a message before hitting the send button.

 **Chloe:** _hey nerd, what r u doing?_

Ten minutes pass without a response and Chloe rolls over in her bed, not really sure what to do with herself. Normally this would be the point at which she'd throw some tunes on and get high as fuck, but even that doesn't sound even remotely appealing to her at the moment. After a bit, she finds herself pondering over the events of the couple of months.

She'd been shocked when she bumped into Max at the store almost two months ago. Of course Chloe had instantly recognized the other girl—she even looked like the same dork from before—and seeing her had reopened a few wounds too. She'd been more than a little pissed at first, especially because Max hadn't even bothered to message her... but she soon found that it was almost impossible to hold a grudge against Max herself.

The way that they _clicked_ together was almost eerie, and it was as though the weeks of tension and drifting apart before Max finally moved away to Seattle hadn't happened at all. Chloe's still curious about that time, and she's constantly tempted to ask Max about it, but she always holds back because she doesn't want to risk ruining their re-established relationship. She _likes_ what they've got now. It's both nostalgic and new at the same time. Chloe sighs, grabbing her cellular device again.

She does some surfing around the internet, but after a while she starts feeling restless. Unable to shake the unpleasant sensation of being antsy and cooped up, Chloe decides to go for a run around the neighborhood. Changing into an old hoodie and some sweatpants, she quickly leaves the house, locking the door behind her. She pops her earbuds in before taking off, jogging down the sidewalk as the cool winter air hits her face.

Chloe hardly notices the passage of time as she runs, lost in the long hallways of her brain and the lyrics filling her head. It's almost three hours before she finally returns to the house, sweaty and more than a bit hungry. She takes a fast shower to refresh herself and then makes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich to munch on. Eventually she drags herself back up the stairs and to her room, scarfing down her food.

There's a reply from Max on her phone that she hadn't noticed during her run, but it's boring and just talks about how she's busy at school. Chloe lies down on her bed after she's done eating, unable to keep her thoughts from wandering to the other girl. For a long time she'd been almost positive she would never see her again. After the way things ended... while she would never admit it out loud, Chloe had always wondered if she was somehow at fault. She couldn't help but think that she'd done something wrong and prompted the seeming end of their friendship.

But now it feels like none of that even happened. Again, burning curiosity pokes at her, making her feel unsettled. Part of her would love to just adamantly demand an explanation from the other girl, but then there's a more rational side of her that reluctantly respects Max's space. She only hopes that with time she might learn exactly what had happened all those years ago.

At some point Chloe falls asleep on her bed, lost in a sea of her own thoughts. She doesn't even get a full hour of rest before she's rustled out of slumber at the sound of the doorbell ringing. She blinks wearily and checks the time on her phone. It's almost three o'clock in the afternoon and she scowls at that; her mom and step-douche weren't going to be home for another couple of hours. After standing up and yawning, she hears the doorbell go off again.

"Hold the fuck on," she mutters under her breath, going down the stairs and approaching the door. She looks through the peep-hole and blinks in surprise at who's on the other side. Immediately she unlocks the door and flings it open. "Max!" she says, taking the other girl in. "What are you doing here? School isn't out yet."

"My Media Literacy teacher is out sick so I don't have class this afternoon," she replies, a little smile on her face. "So I figured we could just chill here?"

"That'd be hella cool, yeah!" Chloe exclaims, grinning and turning around to head towards the stairs. She's already two steps up when she realizes that Max isn't following. When she backtracks, she finds the girl still standing right outside the door, waiting for her.

"You can come in, Max," she says, rolling her eyes. The moment the words are out of her mouth the other girl steps in and closes the door behind her. "Geeze, you're so fucking OCD, you know that?" Chloe continues, grabbing her wrist and dragging her towards the stairs.

Max pulls an expression of mock indignation. "Well, _excuse_ me for being polite."

Chloe shoots a questioning look at her. "Yeah, but I've told you like, a million times that you can just come in whenever you want."

An uncomfortable expression flashes across Max's face, but it's lightning quick and gone in an instant. If Chloe wanted to, it would be easy to convince herself that it had never happened. "I don't know, Che. It's just a weird habit, I guess," the shorter girl says with a shrug.

"Whatever," Chloe laughs, opening her bedroom door. "Don't worry about it. Anyway, what do you wanna do?"

Max hums in contemplation as she sits down on the edge of the bed. Chloe follows in close pursuit, plopping onto the space beside her friend before leaning back and stretching on the sheets. She yawns, still feeling a bit groggy after her incomplete nap.

"I don't know," Max says eventually. "I'm pretty shot after the test this morning. I think I might have bombed it." Chloe watches as she takes her shoulder bag off and sets it on the ground before leaning over, propping her head up on one hand to look at her. "You look tired."

"Nah, I was asleep before you showed up. Just a bit fuzzy still," Chloe responds, but she has to stifle another yawn and Max chuckles at her.

"Go back to sleep if you want, I'm probably gonna study."

Chloe already feels herself drifting off, her eyelids drooping shut. In the back of her mind she feels a little bad because Max had come over to hang out, but exhaustion claws at her, begging her to succumb to the sweet bliss that is sleep.

Somewhere in the distance, she hears Max saying, "You're like a kitten. An oversized kitten with blue hair."

Chloe somehow finds the energy to mumble, "I'm not your cat." The last thing she registers before slipping into unconsciousness is the sound of Max's laughter... and on top of that, the undeniable feeling of contentment swelling in her chest, threatening to swallow her whole.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry it's been a while. I haven't been writing and didn't want to post anything if I wasn't at least... numerous chapters ahead of what's published, but I figure I should at least get _something_ up. I also apologize that this chapter is a bit... bleh. The Chloe-POV chapters are a tad hard and boring to write, especially these pre-discovering-your-best-friend-is-totally-a-vampire ones, haha.**


	4. Chapter Three

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

Max takes a deep breath, inhaling the earthy tones that linger in the air. The scent of pine trees and dirt fill her lungs as the takes in her surroundings, allowing the serene peace of the forest to settle over her. She's always loved being outside at night, even before she was forced to begin what she now refers to in her head as _The Ritual._ Perhaps it's silly to have come up with a specific name for it, but it's what works for her. The Ritual goes down every five days because that is the longest she can go without feeding before she begins to feel weak.

She looks up to the sky, sighing. The stars are there above her head, glittering as they burn light-years away. She glances over at the moon, which is to her left, looming above her as though it's watching her. Only half of it is displayed tonight as it casts a soft glow over the land before her and she's thankful for the nice weather at least; besides the crisp chill in the air, the night is otherwise still and motionless. While the elements don't really affect her, they certainly don't makes things easier when she's trying to hunt for her prey.

Something stirs in her chest at the thought of _blood_ and she pulls the case off her back, gently setting it upon the ground. She kneels, unzipping the container and opening it up. Inside is an older kind of hunters' bow, one that is simple and traditional in nature. It isn't fancy or high-tech like the ones she sees in the stores now days, just a regular thing that gets the job done. She picks it up and runs a hand along its smooth wooden surface.

Back in Seattle, when she was still discovering new things about herself, she had expressed a sudden interest in hunting. Her dad had been more than ecstatic to teach her how, and even now Max suspects that he's always wanted a son. So her father, Ryan Caulfield, had taken her to a small shooting range, one that was specifically made for bow hunting, on the outskirts of the city to show her how it was done. They went there almost every day, and Max—always the quick learner—had mastered using the bow. At the end of their lessons, her dad had given her his old bow, telling her that she had earned the right to own "such a beauty."

 _It's true,_ she thinks, holding onto the instrument that's essentially been her lifeline for the past five years. It _is_ a beautiful instrument, intricate little designs etched into the wood, carefully laced into its surface.

She slings the quiver—the container full with neatly crafted arrows—over her shoulder before standing up. Max closes her eyes and stretches, preparing herself for the hunt and trying to still her racing heart at the thought of fresh _blood_. She always gets worked up in the hours prior to The Ritual, the caged beast, the certain feral part of her soul, writhing around inside her stomach like it knows it's about it be fed.

She makes sure that she's downwind before setting off deeper into the woods, breathing in the scents around her, checking for the smells of nearby animals. She catches wind of some rabbits, two of them she thinks, and begins quietly making her way in that direction. Her senses are definitely heightened compared to those of a normal human's, but Max has found that they aren't even close to the ridiculous way vampires are portrayed in fictional television shows and movies these days.

Max can see in the dark pretty well though, even without the moonlight's assistance. She silently moves between the trees, feeling weightless in her own skin, until her eyes spot a pair of rabbits off in the distance. One of them is nibbling at the ground, minding its own business. Max reaches behind her and pulls a single arrow out of the quiver before drawing it up on her bow. She aims at the creature, and she intakes a single and solid breath before letting the arrow fly. It strikes the small animal right in the heart, killing it instantly.

She watches as the other rabbit scuttles off at the sudden movement but she ignores it, walking up to her fresh kill instead. Max bends down and expertly removes the arrow from its little body before sitting on the ground and picking it up. It's still warm in her hands.

Max cannot resist her urges anymore. Fangs meet flesh as she sinks her teeth into the neck of the dead animal, sighing as the metallic taste of blood hits her. She laps at the fresh puncture wounds she's made, allowing the true vampire in her to come out and play. Her mind enters a blank frenzy for a few moments until the rabbit is almost completely drained, because that's something that happens _every_ time she feeds, and it doesn't matter how hard she tries to stop it; the blazing flurry of feeding always takes over, even if it's only for a second or two at most. Max blinks out of her reverie afterwards and lets out a deep breath as she stands.

She can feel the surge of energy already beginning to wash through her, bringing new found warmth to her skin. Her body buzzes in satisfaction and Max simply closes her eyes, enjoying the way it brings life to her, filling her up from the inside. Opening her eyes, she picks up the bow and starts looking for another creature she can feed on. It doesn't take much blood to meet her needs—she's managed off a single squirrel before—but it would be a lie if she said she doesn't appreciate a little more to feast on. It's not that she likes killing animals... but when she starts drinking she never quite feels full, and the euphoric sensation of feeding is admittedly addictive in ways.

It's been a long time since she's actually felt guilty for what she's forced to do. It isn't unlike the way any other creature in the wild eats to survive. It's no different from the way humans encage and slaughter thousands of various animals to feed mankind. In her head, what she does is much more respectable than humans who hunt for sport. At least she hunts to sustain herself and stay alive.

She cannot bring herself to kill another animal with her fangs, however. She _always_ shoots her food with the bow first, and if the arrow doesn't end the creature's life, then she snap its neck so that their end is quick. Max has only used her teeth to end a life once, and it had been the first time she drank blood in desperation...

* * *

 _Max sits in the corner of her room in Seattle, shivering. She feels empty, like her body is just the shell of something that used to exist but no longer has the energy to go on. At the same time, she feels heavy, like there are a thousand anvils sitting in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down. It takes an extraordinary amount of effort to even lift her fingers._

 _She can feel her life force slowly beginning to slip away, inching further and further away from her soul. A part of her begs to just let go, to let the darkness climb in, because that would be so much easier in so many ways. But Max clings onto the edges, refusing to stop hanging on._

 _Max knows what needs to be done. She's not dumb._

 _Over the past few weeks, she'd watched in dismay as her reflection faded away. Now it's as though she's entirely invisible in the mirror; each time she tries to take a picture of herself, she doesn't show up in them._

 _She isn't sleeping anymore. No amount of lying in bed seems to bring her the blissful sleep she desires so much._

 _Her appetite has vanished. She no longer feels hunger—or at least, it's not the kind that she's used to. Every day, each meal is flavorless and doesn't fill her up in the slightest. All she can do is pick at her plate and tell her parents that's she's just feeling a bit nauseous, and pray that they don't notice how very different she's feeling._

 _Then... there are her teeth. Instinctively, she puts a hand to her mouth, her fingers touching her fangs. They're sharp and it wouldn't take much pressure to puncture skin. She's at least figured out that she can retract them at will, which has made hiding from her parents and everyone else at least a little easier. As of late, however, it's been harder and harder to make them go away._

 _Pulling her knees up to her chest, she buries her face in between them and tugs at her hair. She feels like crying, like screaming to the world in despair, but tears refuse to fall. In the back of her head she wonders if that's another side effect of being what she is. Her breathing speeds up, each inhalation of oxygen borderline painful._

 _"Why?" she chokes out. Or at least she tries to, anyway. It ends up being more of a strangled cough of dry air than anything else._

 _She wants answers. Why is she like this? If she is what she thinks she is_ — _and she's damn positive now that she's a vampire_ — _then that means that someone is responsible for this, right? Max wishes she knew who did this to her. She wishes that they would have stuck around to tell her how to deal with everything that's happening to her. She wishes it would all just stop, that it never would have happened in the first place. She wishes for so many things and is forced to look them dead in the eyes and realize there's a good chance they'll never come true._

 _A few more minutes of this infernal suffering continue, before something dreadfully cold settles over her then. Like a dark film placed over her eyes, it's an unsettling state of mind, and the burning ember that is her life refuses to die out._

 _A quick glance at the clock on her wall tells her that it's a little after three o'clock in the morning. Trembling, she drags herself to her feet. It takes all the remaining energy she has to stumble to her door and step outside. With shaky footsteps, she finds herself at the front door, unlocking it with unsteady hands and slipping out into the night. She only half closes the door, so out of it that the thought of properly shutting it doesn't even cross her mind. All of these things occur as the mindless sort of haze holds her within its firm grasp._

 _She walks, both unsure of what she's looking for and perfectly aware of what she needs at the same time. Max doesn't want to die; she isn't prepared for things to end because of this. Some terrifying thing that isn't her speaking, but rather something much scarier, says she'll do whatever it takes._

 _Not even minutes later, it's as though fate answers her silent cries for help. She finds herself at the end of the street, and before her is a cowering stray dog. It's trembling and there's a wild look in its eyes as it regards her wearily. She can see its ribs poking out from under its skin and the creature looks like it hasn't eaten in weeks. In many ways, it's just as helpless and starved as she is._

 _At that moment, something within her breaks. Some internal instinct takes over_ — _the part of her brain that chooses between life and death in dire situations_ — _and she lunges at a speed she wasn't aware was even possible, given her state. Adrenaline pumps through her veins as she latches onto the dog, holding it down as it struggles beneath her grip._

 _In an instant her teeth are on its neck and she bites down, hard. The stray writhes for only a few seconds longer until it slowly goes limp, losing the will to fight back, until its life slips away entirely. Max sits there, hunched over the creature, furiously sucking every last drop she can pull from the creature's dead body._

 _Then the burst of energy hits her like a gigantic tsunami wave crashing down on her, shaking her to the core with the sheer power of it. She feels the warmth return to her limbs, the heat sinking into her skin and spreading throughout her. It makes her feel_ alive _. The intensity of it is almost too much for a second, threatening to overwhelm her._

 _A few minutes later, the high dies down and she looks at what she's done. There's blood all over her shirt and she can feel it dripping down her face. When she glances at the dog, she can't contain the strangled little noise that escapes her throat. The fur around its neck is stained a bright and glaring crimson, and its eyes are still wide open. Frozen in them is the unmistakable expression of fear._

 _Max scrambles to her feet, stumbling a few steps back. The previous feeling of bliss that'd been coursing through her is gone without a trace, and is now replaced with cold and relentless horror, but she is energized nonetheless. Max runs back to her house then, desperately needing to put as much space as possible between herself and the animal she'd just killed. She staggers up the front steps to the door, and just barely remembers not to touch anything because there's still wet blood on her hands._

 _She's so grateful that both of her parents are terribly deep sleepers, because if they weren't, she isn't sure what she'd do. Max carefully slips inside_ — _also a bit thankful she didn't bother to close the door to begin with_ — _and pushes the it shut with her back before staggering to the bathroom, flipping the light switch on._

 _A tiny part of her is glad that she can't see her own reflection in the mirror, because she's terrified of what she'd see there if she could._

 _Max scrubs her hands off in the sink for what feels like forever, scrubbing at them until they're almost raw in an attempt to remove all the blood she can. Then she moves onto her mouth and face, rubbing until she's sure that all traces of crimson are gone, but even then she feels like its still clinging to her. The tangy metallic scent seems permanently burned into her nostrils. Dejected, she slinks back to her bedroom, feeling both exhausted and hyper at the same time. As soon as she closes the door behind her, she slips out of her shirt and pants, balling the stained fabric up and stuffing them in the back of her closet. She'll worry about those later._

 _She changes into a new pair of pajamas and finally collapses on her bed, bewildered at everything that had just happened in the past hour._

 _Images of the dead dog flash through her head and she shudders._

 _And that's when she makes a silent promise to herself that she'll never use her fangs to kill again._

* * *

Max shivers, thinking about that first time she'd tasted blood. It had been right after that experience that she decided that learning how to use a weapon to hunt was essential. Even now, the memory of feeling that dog's life disappear right beneath her fingertips is enough to make her grimace. She can only hope that she's never driven to a moment of desperation like that again.

After the turn her thoughts have taken, she decides not to go after another creature to drink upon. Max turns around, heading back to where she'd left the case to her bow at. It doesn't take her long to pack everything back up and begin making her way back to Blackwell. Even though it's a little over three miles to the school, that doesn't bother Max. Unlike what the movies seem to suggest, she can't run as fast as light or anything ridiculous like that.

However, she _can_ jog for an almost unlimited amount of time without growing tired or fatigued. Exhaustion from physical exertion has never been a thing she's needed to worry about, and she's yet to encounter it.

So she runs at an _average_ human speed in the direction of her school, the case that holds the bow slung over her back. It takes her roughly twenty minutes to get there, and she slips past the nighttime security guards effortlessly. She sighs happily when she's inside her dorm building, humming appreciatively as a blast of warm air hits her. Max is actually pleasantly looking forward to just sitting down to do some peaceful studying until morning rolls around and it's time for school to start again.

When she pushes open her door, however, she stops dead in her tracks. Inside is Chloe, lounging on her bed like she couldn't care less about the world. Upon Max's entrance, the other girl looks up and grins at her. "Well there you are. I was wondering where you were off to."

Max opens her mouth but then _immediately_ shuts it because she remembers in that instant that she hasn't bothered to retract her fangs yet. She swallows the cold lump in her throat as panic fills her chest. _Did she see that?_

She doesn't speak until she's completely sure her sharp canines are properly hidden, and when she does, all she can stammer out is, "Ch-Chloe, what are you doing here?"

The other girl laughs at her. "I know I wasn't invited, but geeze, don't look so fucking terrified. What's that?"

Max curses internally. Of course Chloe notices as she tries to inconspicuously set the case down on the ground. She tries her best to change the subject and draw Chloe's attention anywhere but on the weapon. "It's nothing. And it's fine that you're here, you just shocked me, is all. Why are you here again?"

The blue-haired girl gives her an odd look and her gaze lingers on the object on the floor, but to Max's relief she brings her eyes up and says, "Oh, my mom and step-shit are arguing and I got sick of listening to it." She hesitates for a second before adding, "I wasn't sure where to go, but I figured that you would be awake... but then you weren't here."

Max steps over to the bed and sits down. "Sorry about that," she says, offering no further information. "You alright though? It's the middle of the night."

Chloe nods. "I know, but that doesn't matter to them. It's fucking annoying."

"Well, you can crash here whenever you need to. Just... maybe text next time?"

Chloe frowns a little. "Will do, Max. I'm sorry I didn't this time, I just needed to get away from the house and I wasn't thinking. Anyway, I'm gonna go to sleep now that you're here, if that's cool."

"It's okay," Max says, getting up and sitting down at her desk. "If you ever need me for anything, just call or text, or you know, show up," she says gesturing at the room with a little smile. Really, a forewarning would have been nice, but in the end a little voice in her head tells Max that it doesn't matter _what_ 's wrong; she'll make space and time for Chloe in her life. "I'll make time for you. Always."

"Ugh, stop it, you're being too sweet now," Chloe says, but she's smiling anyway. "Seriously though. Thanks."

The blue-haired girl falls asleep not long after that, and the moment she does Max gets up and tucks the bow away in her closet. She sits back down and it's only then that the anxious feeling buzzing through her veins finally starts to subside. Staring at the other girl, for a wild moment Max wonders what would happen if she told Chloe the truth.

She shakes her head then, dismissing the notion immediately. After all, those are the kind of thoughts that get people into trouble in the end.

* * *

Max hums along to the song playing out of her earbuds as she walks to class. It's a nice day out, or at least it is for her; the clouds are covering up the sun and the temperature is sharp and cold but not overly so. Stepping inside the entrance doors to Blackwell Academy, she takes in all the other humans around her. They bustle about their business, completely ignoring her, just the way she prefers it.

She sees a group of girls hovering near the bathroom and based off their devilish expressions, Max guesses that they're sharing some particularly juicy gossip. She continues further into the school, simply observing those around her. There are some stereotypical jocks—Vortex Club members, probably—picking on a stereotypical nerd by the lockers. Then there's a couple making out by one of the classroom doors. It's an overall pretty normal day.

On her way to class, she pauses to look at the bulletin board. On it is a large array of various flyers advertising different things, but she doesn't really care about those. Her attention is drawn to the left-hand side, where there's an entire column of papers that show the faces of missing people. They're all girls, and all of them are pretty and fairly attractive. Max can't help but feel sad for them, wondering where they are now and if they're okay. A few of them are older, having been posted for months now, but there are a couple newer ones.

The one that stands out to Max the most actually has the face of a girl she recognizes on it. _Kate Marsh._ She'd been in her photography class for the first month of school until she had up and mysteriously disappeared one day. Max hadn't known her very well, but from the few interactions they'd shared, she'd been able to gleam that the other girl was pretty sweet, albeit a bit shy.

Max sighs, looking at the picture. A pang of guilt runs through her. She feels like she should have gotten to know her better. Tearing her eyes away from the board, she walks down the hallway, trying the shake the feeling in her chest.

When Max steps into her classroom, Mr. Jefferson greets her amicably. She tugs her earbuds out and smiles at him. "Morning," she says before starting toward her chair in the back. She's almost ten minutes early, so almost no one is there yet. Before she can go any further, she feels a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she sees Mr. Jefferson there, smiling at her.

"Max! It's good to see you. How was your weekend?" He gestures for her to follow to his desk. "Surely you've time to spare out of your day to chat with your old teacher?"

She laughs a little. "Of course, Mr. Jefferson. My weekend was fine. Yours?" she asks politely.

"It was lovely," he replies. "Thank you for asking."

She stands there as he sits at his desk and they talk about random little things. He brings up the Everyday Heroes contest, and when she tells him she doesn't have anything to submit yet, she receives the same old lecture about how she needs to put her work out there if she has any desires to be recognized. When the bell draws closer, he adds, "Oh, and Max?"

"Yes?"

"If you could stick around after class for a little bit, that'd be great. There's something else I'd like to speak with you about."

Nodding, she goes to her seat and watches as everyone else in the class starts filing in one by one. The class carries on as it usually does, which consists of Victoria kissing Mr. Jefferson's ass and lectures about famous photographers and such. In a way, it kind of pleases Max that for whatever reason, Mr. Jefferson seems more interested in talking to her than Victoria. She doesn't know _why_ but she figures it's best not to question it. Take the small victories, right?

The class ends and of course Victoria makes a beeline towards Mr. Jefferson. Max watches in amusement at the events that unfold next, unable to keep a tiny smirk off her face as she sees the older man shooing the blonde away.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" Max asks, approaching his desk. He looks thoughtful as he waits for everyone to exit the classroom before speaking.

"Max, have you ever felt like you were powerless to the world and its grip on you? Have there ever been times when you felt as though there were a billion things you didn't understand, but nonetheless you managed to push through and survive anyway?"

Max pauses, trying to consider his questions seriously. After a few seconds of thinking about everything she's been through the past five years, she answers, "Yes. I have."

"I thought as much. You know, Max, sometimes you just have to take life for what it is. I think it's natural for everyone to experience a sensation of hopelessness at some point in time. Those moments where you want to scream at the world and question your very existence. When you just want answers but only end up with more questions in the end."

"Why... why are you telling me all this, Mr. Jefferson?" Max asks, unsure where he's going with the conversation.

He looks her right in the eyes then, and says, "I know what you are, Max."

She blinks. And then blinks again. _Wha...?_ Her heart starts thumping uncomfortably in her chest. "W-what?" she stammers, trying to resist the urge to bolt out of the room right then and there. But at the same time, she's not sure if she could move even if she wanted to. Something in his eyes and the way he says it makes her feel frozen, pinned in place and helpless.

"You're a lost soul, Max," he continues. "Wandering around in a sea of people who don't understand you."

"Oh," she says slowly, nodding hesitantly. _See, he doesn't know, Max. It's okay._ "Yeah, I guess... that's true."

After a moment, he adds, "I _understand_ you, Max. I just wanted you to know that."

"T-thanks, Mr. Jefferson," she manages to choke out. Then she truly does abscond, turning around and abruptly darting out the door. Her heart is beating so erratically she's afraid it may just leap out of her chest.

She finds herself leaning against her locker, taking deep breaths in a lousy attempt to calm herself. _He's just being nice. He's trying to connect with his students. It's nothing._

But no matter how many times she tells herself that in her head, she can't shake the terrible feeling that's taken root her gut. It's the thing she saw in his eyes—something lurking in the depths—and she realizes with unnerving clarity that it's the look of a predator who's just found its prey.

* * *

 **Author's Note: What's this? A long-ish chapter? With plot development? Woo! Don't worry. I haven't forgotten this story. I'm still working on it, just... very slowly, and for that I apologize.**

 **Also, if you see any errors or typos or messed up grammar, minuscule as they may be, please let me know via review or PM. It seems that no matter how many times one looks over their own story, it never fails that they miss at least a few things. Thank you.**


	5. Chapter Four

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Chapter Four**

It's snowing outside when Chloe wakes up that morning.

She walks up to her desk and looks out the window, bringing a blanket to wrap around her shoulders because there's a chill in the air that clings to her skin. It's the first and likely only snow of the season, a light and delicate thing to indicate the beginning of the winter season and more cold weather to come. Chloe finds herself smiling, feeling oddly content as she watches the soft snowflakes drifting closer to the ground. She pulls her phone out and sends a text.

 **Chloe:** _have u looked outside_

Her phone buzzes in response about five minutes later, right as Chloe is unlocking the window and lifting it up. She climbs up on the desk and ducks outside, inhaling sharply at the wave of icy air that hits her entire body. After crawling out and closing the window behind her, she wraps the blanket around herself even tighter before sitting down on the shingles and checking her phone.

 **Max:** _Look's like someone is up early. (^_^)_

 **Chloe:** _but have u looked outside_

 **Chloe:** _and DAMMIT MAX_

 **Max:** _Haha. And no, I haven't. I'm not even out of bed yet. Why?_

 **Chloe:** _just do it_

She sits there like an idiot out in the cold, grinning as she waits to see Max's response to the beautiful day outside. It's cloudy and overcast but stunning in a melancholy sort of way that Chloe knows Max will totally dig. There's a bubbly feeling in her chest that she hasn't felt in a long time, burning within her despite the fact that she's actually shivering now. Chloe wishes the other girl was with her on the roof right then.

Her phone starts ringing and she can't wipe the dumb fucking smile off her face as she picks it up.

"It's snowing out!" she hears the girl exclaim on the other end of the line.

"Thanks for pointing that out, Captain Obvious. But isn't it fucking awesome?" Chloe hears Max laughing at her and she can feel the affection for the other girl humming in her bones. "I wish you were out here with me. You could totally take some epic shots."

There's a slight pause. Then, "Wait—are you outside?"

"Well, duh, it's _snowing_ out! Of course I am!"

"Jesus, Chloe," Max says with what sounds like an exasperated huff. "Get back inside, you're going to catch a cold, silly." Chloe swears she can hear the smile on the other girl's lips though. Rolling her eyes, she nods even though Max can't see her.

"Aye, aye, Captain."

After they hang up, Chloe sends her another text.

 **Chloe:** _two whales, 25 mins_

 **Chloe:** _wont be late this time, promise_

 **Max:** _You better not be, otherwise you're paying._

She crawls back inside, bouncing to keep herself warm. The entire time she's getting ready there's a little grin on her lips that she can't seem to erase.

* * *

For the first time ever, Chloe gets to the diner before Max. She taps her fingers along the table and smirks triumphantly as she sees the shorter girl walk in.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. You can _try_ to rub it in my face, but don't forget that I'm still five minutes early."

They sit and chat for a while, just talking about anything and everything over the table until Joyce comes around and takes their orders. Even though it's nice, after a bit Chloe begins to get the feeling that Max's mind is wandering elsewhere. It starts to get on her nerves, especially when she's trying to tell her about some shit her step-douche had pulled the other day.

"Max, hello? You there?" Chloe huffs out an annoyed sigh as she snaps her fingers in front of the other girl's face. Max blinks in response, looking startled and not unlike a deer caught in headlights. Admittedly, the expression is borderline adorable and Chloe feels some of her previous ire dying out.

"Huh?"

"You keep zoning out. What's up?" she asks, taking a sip of her coffee. She's been noticing this more and more lately, too. It had almost been three weeks since Chloe had shown up at Max's dorm room in the middle of the night—only to find her gone—but ever since, she can't help but think that something's been off about the other girl. Chloe's still extremely curious about the contents of the large case Max had been carrying when she got back to the room that night.

She wants to know the truth, yet at the same time she's trying desperately not to pry too hard. Max had obviously not been keen on sharing that information with her.

"S-sorry," Max says, looking a little sheepish. "I'm just stressed out because finals are coming up next week and I need to study more."

"You study way too much. Sure you're okay?"

Max seems to hesitate for a second and then she looks down at her plate. It seems like she's contemplating her words, or whether or not she's even going to say them. Right when Chloe is almost sure that she's not going to say anything, Max glances up at her.

"I don't know. I can't stop thinking about something Mr. Jefferson told me a couple weeks ago."

Chloe blinks, mind turning. "You mean, the famous photographer you're always talking about?"

"I don't talk about him all the time," she mutters a little indignantly. "But yeah, him."

"What happened?" Chloe asks, pushing her finished plate to the side. Max's expression looks unsettled and for a moment Chloe just wants to change the conversation topic to distract the other girl's attention away from whatever is troubling her. Her curiosity gets the better of her, however.

"He held me after class one day and started going on about how he understood me and crap. It was kind of creepy."

"But isn't it hella cool that your teacher is taking the time to talk to you?" Chloe narrows her eyes, trying to piece together what was necessarily wrong with what Max just told her.

"Yeah," she replies, nibbling at the last bit of her eggs and bacon. "It's probably nothing. He hasn't done or said anything else since then, so I guess it's fine."

"Is that all though?"

"What do you mean?" Max asks warily, looking up at the serious expression Chloe is throwing at her.

"I feel like there's something you aren't telling me. Normally something like this wouldn't freak you out, like, at all." Chloe watches the way a few expressions flicker across Max's face then—alarm, hesitation, worry—and then she _knows_ that the other girl is withholding information.

"I'm just being paranoid," Max says after a long pause.

"Whatever," Chloe says, but her insides squirm because she wishes that Max would confide in her. She doesn't admit it, but it _hurts_ that after everything, there's still an abundance of things that she doesn't know and Max doesn't seem comfortable sharing them with her. She just wants her friend to trust her and the fact that there's still distance between them makes her throat constrict just a little bit.

If she's entirely honest, it scares her. It awakens that little part of her that's terrified of being left all alone again.

* * *

It hasn't snowed again since that day—in fact, it's warmed up some— but it's still cold out. Chloe lazily watches as her breath comes out in visible little puffs of air.

"I can't believe you dragged me out here in this weather," Max says to her left. The girl is bundled up in a cute sweater with multiple deer images knit into the design and she's holding her arms in her hands, rubbing them.

"Whatever, I know you love it when it's gloomy and shit," she replies, nudging her in the shoulder.

"Yeah." The little smile she gets in response makes her feel so warm that no amount of freezing weather could combat it.

They walk through the junkyard until they're close to the train tracks, where the remains of someone else's bonfire remains. Chloe bends down and gets to work on starting a new fire, and in the corner of her eyes she watches Max wander off, camera in hand. After she's got a nice little bundle of flames up and going, she spreads out the old blanket from her house out on the ground. It's an ancient and tattered thing she doesn't mind getting dirty.

"Yo, Max! Get your ass over here! We've got fire power!"

She grins as the other girls comes over. Max quirks an eyebrow. "Really? A blanket? Seems a little cliché, don't you think?"

"Whatever, I just wanna chill. Get it? Because it's col—"

"Stop it, you're ridiculous," Max giggles, sitting down on the material and sticking her hands out in front of the flames. Chloe sits down next to her, close enough that they're shoulder-to-shoulder. Being in each other's presence is peaceful, and for a long time they just sit there, warming up and staring into the fire. Chloe watches the memorizing way the flames flicker and lick towards the sky. It's utterly captivating.

She jumps a little and her heart begins to thump just a pace faster when Max leans her head on her shoulder. Chloe hears a contented sigh disappear into the air. "I love just being able to hang out with you again."

"Me too," she says, slipping an arm around the other girl.

Another great expanse of time passes in silence, the two of them simply sitting before the fire, leaning into one another. Max's hair smells of vanilla and she thinks there might be a hint of cinnamon there too. The scent is intoxicating and it there's a part of Chloe that has to resist the urge to just nuzzle into the other girl.

Then she blinks at that line of thinking, mentally shaking her head. _Get yourself together,_ she scolds herself. And in her attempt to redirect her thoughts to other places, they wander to a less pleasant area, and she finds herself thinking about that night Max hadn't been in her room. That pang of sadness ripples through her heart again, knowing that Max doesn't want her to know the truth. She contemplates speaking, tries so damn hard to keep her mouth shut, but after a while she can't help herself.

"Max, you know you can tell me anything, right?" Chloe says softly, glancing at the other girl. That uncomfortable sensation of being left of the dark still remains in her stomach and she wishes that she could expel it entirely.

"I know, Che."

With a sigh, an internal war writhes inside her, one that Max is currently oblivious to. She should drop it; she should just be grateful that they're together again. Ultimately though, she's powerless to stop the words from leaping out of her mouth. "Then how come you won't tell me what was in that case?"

Chloe watches as Max sits up some at that question, pulling away a bit and blinking at her. "You're still worried about that?"

"Well, come on. My best friend is off in the middle of the night and she comes back with that shit and won't tell me about it? Of course I still want to know what that was. I hope there wasn't a dead body in it."

"A body wouldn't have fit in there."

"Whatever, maybe it was just a head," Chloe scoffs, rolling her eyes. "I just want to know what you're hiding from me."

Max looks away, the expression on her face... almost wistful in nature. Like she wants to tell her but doesn't have the courage to do so. _Or she doesn't trust you_ , the unhelpful voice in Chloe's head supplies. It's a long time before Max says anything, and when she does, the other girl refuses to meet Chloe's hard gaze.

"I can't tell you."

"Why?" Chloe asks, feeling her gut start to sink.

"I... I just can't. And I wish that you'd drop it because it's nothing."

"It's not nothing if you insist on hiding it so damn much," Chloe says, feeling her voice raise, letting the volume cover up the way it wants to crack.

She feels like her walls are being torn down, brick by brick.

"You don't have to get mad, Chloe," Max says, staring at her lap.

But she feels all her insecurities crawling up in her throat and climbing out her mouth. Suddenly, without even thinking, words start tumbling out into the air.

"It's just—I don't know! You've been all shady and shit lately and I don't know why you can't just tell me what's wrong! I'm your best friend, aren't I? Or is that a big fucking lie? How long till you up and abandon me again?" When she's done, Chloe feels like her heart is about to shatter into a million little pieces and the only person who could possibly stop that from happening is the girl in front of her. In that moment, she's torn away her defenses and now her soul is out there in the open, there for Max to see.

Max looks so conflicted in response, her face contorted in a painful mixture of confusion and sadness. "God, Chloe, I _want_ to tell you. You have no idea," she whispers.

"Then _tell me_ , Max!" Chloe can't tell if she feels like crying, or screaming, or possibly both at the same time.

"Listen, Chloe," the shorter girl says, looking away for a second before she grabs both of Chloe's hands in her own. In the back of her head, Chloe can't help but notice how Max rubs little circles on the tops of her hands. "I'm so sorry I left back then. But I'm not going to leave you again, I _promise._ I'm not going to run away again. I need you to know that, Chloe."

She feels her will to fight beginning to die, instead being replaced with the feeling of cold dejection settling over her. "But what were you running away from?"

" _Everything_ ," she says so quietly Chloe almost can't hear the words. "Life kicked me in the ass and I ran away, and I'm going to be forever sorry to you for that."

There are a thousand retorts she could have said then, but instead she just starts feeling bad. "I... I trust that you did what needed to be done... whatever the fuck that was. Listen, I'm sorry for being an ass."

"It's okay, Chloe. Honestly, you have every right to be upset with me... I'm the worst friend ever for leaving."

"First of all, that's not fucking true, because you came back. Second, at least you don't get pissy over crap and then blow your top like I do. I could go on, but I don't want this to turn into fight about who's the shittier friend, so let's just leave it at I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," Max says, sighing but leaning into her again. "Honestly, I've been a little on-edge lately myself. Finals are next week and I don't feel prepared at all even though I've been studying every night."

A thought flashes across Chloe's mind. "Okay, hey, if it's finals that's got you so freaked out, then let's do something fun this weekend."

"Fun?" Max asks, looking up at her. She looks a little skeptical but her curiosity is definitely piqued.

Chloe throws a grin at her. "Yeah. Saturday. You can do all the studying you want before and after then, but on Saturday we're gonna go fuck shit up! Just you and me, no textbooks." Max laughs at her enthusiasm, looks away for a moment, and then nods.

"It's a date, then."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Heh, something really fun happens next chapter. I mean, it's not very fun for Max or Chloe and things get worse before they get better, _but_ it's pretty fun for us writers and readers, I think. I hope. Drop a review if you think you know what's going to happen~**

 **Also! I have a tumblr now, courtesy of my friend Zio. My domain is: just-a-pirate-i-used-to-know - so follow me! I'll be dropping updates and additional story notes over the story there, and if you have any questions about the story, that's the place to ask them.**

 **And lastly, I'd like to say thank you for all the reviews and follows and favorites so far! It means the world to me.**


	6. Chapter Five

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Chapter Five**

Max runs a hand through her hair, glaring at the papers below her. The words stare up at her almost as though they're taunting her, daring her not to finish answering their questions. Another ten minutes pass until she groans in protest, closing her Language of Photography textbook because she thinks that after hours of trying to finish the finals review worksheet, she deserves at least a little break. A small sigh escapes her as she rests her head on the thick tome on her desk.

She feels _exhausted,_ both mentally and physically. Her limbs feel like they're being weighed down, like there are sandbags tied around them making her movements sluggish. Her eyelids begin to flutter shut and unconsciousness begins to tug at her, and Max feels like a nap would actually be really nice.

Then she blinks her eyes open and a frown forms on her lips. _Wait, that's not right..._ Lifting her head, Max picks up her phone and unlocks it, and then she just stares at the date on the screen for what feels like forever. "What _the fuck?_ " she mutters after a good while, unable to tear her eyes away from the date and time.

 **9:53 AM - Saturday, December 12th**

The fatigue makes sense then, because somehow Max had managed to completely forget about The Ritual. She looks up at the window, cold alarm running through her. It's already far too late to go hunting now because sunlight had met the horizon hours ago. A tiny hint of panic begins to sizzle in the pit of her stomach because this is the first time she's ever missed The Ritual. It vaguely reminds her of that first night she ever fed, and she shudders at the memory.

She shoots the schoolwork a spiteful look with new found resentment. It's appalling that she'd been so caught up in trying to finish reviews and essays that she'd forget about something _so important,_ especially after years of being so diligent.

And to make matters even worse, her phone buzzes only a few minutes later.

 **Chloe:** _yo, Mad Max, ready to hang?_

"Shit," she grumbles. She had promised Chloe that she would put this day aside so that they could go and do something together. For a second she considers if she should cancel, but then a pang of guilt shoots through her at the thought. After the argument that had gone down just a few days ago, it wouldn't be right for her to bail on the other girl; if she did, she's pretty sure she would surpass Chloe and officially obtain the title of Shittiest Friend Ever.

She rubs her hands over her face, contemplating what to do. Max doesn't feel _that_ tired and she thinks she can get away with just waiting until tonight. She feels incredibly unsettled about the whole situation, but at this point there's not a whole lot she can do about it. She's never gone hunting during the day before and the mere thought sounds scarier and more unappealing than simply waiting until she can be masked by the quiet safety of night.

It's just one day. She'll go along with whatever plans Chloe has for the day and then as soon as midnight rolls around she'll go and hunt. It'll all be fine... _right?_

* * *

The wind rustles through the trees, whispering through the leaves. They're still stained a myriad of reds and oranges, and it feels less like winter and more like the last remnants of fall are still clinging onto the days. That's not particularly abnormal though and Max doubts that the temperature will drop below forty degrees again, much less procure another little bout of snow—lovely as that had been. Arcadia Bay, being a town located along the Pacific coast, doesn't exactly see a whole lot of freezing weather.

But the air is still chilly, and Max zips up her jacket as Chloe leads her deeper into the woods. It's kind of interesting how the other girl had chosen hiking to be their "fun activity" for the day, which means being in the same general area where Max goes to hunt; she wonder's if the universe is just messing with her now. She can't help but notice the scents of various critters nearby and it reminds her of the vague feeling of weakness in her bones. It's such an odd and unpleasant feeling she's not used to, and she wishes she could satiate her needs right then and there.

Of course, that's not even a remote possibility, due to the girl bounding ahead of her. "Where are you even taking me?" Max asks, overstepping a fallen branch on the ground.

Chloe glances back at her and grins. "You'll see. There's an epic spot up a little ways."

Max wonders how Chloe even knows where she's going, considering that they aren't even following a clear path, but she decides not to question it and rather waits to see where they end up. They don't talk much during the trek, mostly because it seems like the blue-haired girl is more focused on getting them to their destination more than anything else.

In terms of weather Max can thoroughly enjoy, it's a really nice day in her book. Any day where the sun is hidden from view is.

However, she secretly loves when the sun hangs high in the air, even though she can't necessarily be outside in it for extended periods of time. She thinks the way the sun splays across certain scenes make for the best photographs, and the bright tone is admittedly more beautiful than the dull and muted feel of gloomy days in her opinion. That isn't to say she doesn't carry a fondness for days like the current one though. Over the years, she's developed an affection for overcast days that will last her entire life.

After a while of following Chloe further into the depths of the forest, she finally finds herself in a small clearing along the edge of a steep hill. Max hadn't realized how high they'd climbed, because the little expanse of flat land overlooks most of Arcadia Bay. It's a stunning view and Max instinctively pulls her camera out to take the shot.

Chloe laughs behind her. "I knew you'd dig it!"

After she's taken the picture, she turns around with a smile. "This is pretty cool, Che. How'd you find this place?"

"I found it a few years ago when I left the house one day to get away from my step-douche and mom. Back then I had to mark the trees with a knife so I could find my way back, but now I've been here enough times that I don't need to do that anymore. This hideout is a lot more secret than the junkyard," she says, chuckling a little. "I don't feel comfortable kicking a fire up here though, sorry."

"It's fine," Max replies, removing her shoulder bag before sitting down. The grass is soft and dense beneath her fingertips, tickling her skin as she touches the emerald-colored blades. Chloe sits down next to her and for a long time they just sit there, staring off into the distance and merely enjoying one another's company. Max's mind drifts as she thinks about her vampirism, and she idly wonders how long she could go without feeding before she was reduced to a similar state as that first time.

She's not exactly interested in finding out though, and she mentally kicks herself again for messing up this morning. It's impossible for her to wrap her head around the fact that she neglected to take care of things due to something as mundane as schoolwork. She sighs and tosses a glance at the blue-haired girl next to her; Chloe looks content, leaning back on her hands with her eyes closed.

Max shuffles and pulls herself to her feet before grabbing her camera. She snaps a shot of Chloe then, intent on capturing the peaceful expression on her face as she sits there in the grass. The other girl cracks her eyes open and smiles a little while quirking an eyebrow. "Like the view?"

Max rolls her eyes. "You looked happy. It was a good picture."

Right as it seems like Chloe's about to respond, two things happen in that instant. A loud rustling ripples throughout the air as a deer bursts into the clearing, and Max, startled by its sudden appearance, instinctively takes a step backwards. The next thing she knows, there's the terribly unmistakable feeling of falling deep in her gut, and wind is assaulting her face. She scrambles to grab onto the edge of cliff, but her fingers don't find a proper hold and she's tumbling far below.

She hears Chloe shouting her name but she barely registers it, her thoughts instead focusing on the intense pain blooming in her side. Even though realistically it's only a few seconds, it feels as though time slows down as Max falls to the ground. When everything finally stops moving, it takes her a few moments to gather her surroundings.

The hill is steep but luckily for Max it wasn't as tall or high up as she'd initially thought. She sees Chloe up at the top, peering down with a panicked expression written across her face. Then she realizes that the other girl is still calling out to her. "I-I'm fine," Max manages to grit out, even though she feels far from it.

"I'll be there as fast as I can, okay?" Chloe shouts. The sound of her rustling through the trees follows.

The pain is what shocks Max the most. When she glances down to get a proper look at herself, she gasps a little, which only sends another shock of agony zooming through her chest. Crimson stains her jacket around her abdomen, and her clothes are in a torn and bloodied mess. Unzipping the jacket, she hastily lifts the material of her shirt up before inspecting the damage through clenched teeth.

There's a huge gash along the left side of her abdomen and she hisses as the cold air hits the injury. Max inches backwards until she's leaning up against a tree stump, crying out as she moves herself. Max can see more blood spilling from her stomach and it only reminds her of the fatigued feeling in her bones. It's terrifying in an oddly nostalgic way, making her think of that night she'd been on the verge of death. She thinks she might be approaching that level of desperation as she presses her shirt against the wound in a feeble attempt to stop the bleeding.

Even though it's probably only a little over five minutes, it feels like hours before Chloe is there by her side. Max's breath hitches as the other girl comes bounding over; she looks a little scratched up herself, and Max figures she didn't exactly take much care in getting to her unscathed.

"Oh _shit_ ," Chloe curses, running a hand through her hair. "That—that's a lot of blood!"

Max doesn't say anything, only watches as Chloe pulls out her phone and attempts to dial someone, a constant stream of swear words falling out of her mouth as she waits for an answer. Then she barks out another curse, followed by, "There's no _fucking signal_ out here! Shit, Max, I don't know if I can carry y—"

She doesn't hear whatever else Chloe continues to ramble on about, because her attention is instead focused on the only thing she _knows_ will fix things.

 _Blood._

Obviously her own won't work—that ship had sailed years ago; she had attempted it one time simply out of curiosity only to find it had no effect on her whatsoever—but she isn't sure what else. She doesn't think Chloe is capable of going out and finding her an animal, much less actually capturing and killing one... Then an absolutely insane idea pops into her head and despite everything happening, it makes her heart flutter. _Her blood, you idiot!_

 _I can't just bite her. What if it turns her?_ Max argues with herself in her head.

 _Does it matter? You're going to fucking die!_

 _Of course it matters,_ she thinks. She cannot risk the other girl; she'd rather die before even considering it. Of that she is sure. Then something else crosses her thoughts.

"Chloe," she blurts, looking up at the girl who is pacing wildly just a few feet from her. Spinning on her feet, she stops abruptly, rushing over to kneel next to her.

"Yes? Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

"Pocket knife. Do you have one on you?"

"Um, yeah, right here," she replies somewhat slowly, pulling one out from her back pocket.

Max's heart thumps wildly in her chest at the thought of what she's about to ask. Of course, it was already beating rapidly from the adrenaline coursing through her, but she feels like it only speeds up more and that doesn't help stop the blood flow one bit. "I need you to cut yourself," she says.

"W-what the fuck do you mean, Max?" Chloe stutters, clearly confused and freaked out.

"Just do it," she grunts, her hands clenched in tight fists as pain wracks her body.

"What the fuck is that going to accomplish though? I think you're delirious, l-let me try to get you to the hospit—"

" _Chloe,_ " Max says, her voice a steely and determined thing, surprisingly steady all things considered. And there must be something in her expression when she says it too, because the other girl stops talking and just stares at her for a second before hesitantly flicking the knife open.

"I— _fuck_ —okay, Max. Only because I trust you," she says quietly, staring at her. Somewhere in the back of her head, Max thinks that _Chloe_ must be the delirious one here, because no one in their right mind would have accepted this particular demand. "Where?"

"It... it doesn't matter."

Then Max can only stare as Chloe drags the blade across her wrist, right below the base of her hand. Three little beads of blood form before they spill together across the fresh wound and Max glances up at Chloe's expectant face for only a fraction of a second before something inside her snaps; it too, is reminiscent of that first night. Her hand darts out, grabbing Chloe's wrist before pulling it to her mouth, her tongue flicking to catch the blood that's just started to drip down.

And _the flavor_ is so different yet so similar to animal blood that a strangled noise pushes past her throat, a choked combination of a moan and growl at the same time. She feels Chloe try to tug away but Max tightens her grip, both refusing and terrified to let her go. Nonetheless, a tiny voice lingering in the back of her consciousness reminds her to be careful not to puncture the other girl's skin with her teeth. This way, she's only drinking Chloe's blood, not actually biting her. In the back of her head, Max hopes it's enough, and if not, that's a bridge she'll cross when she gets there, because the current fog that's enveloped her brain is hard to get past.

Then the wave of euphoria hits her, and it's unlike anything Max has ever felt before. It crashes into her tenfold compared to that first time she'd tasted blood. She can feel as it surges throughout her veins, pulsing through her body and sinking into the very core of her bones. The pain in her abdomen quickly quickly dissipates until it's but a mere throbbing sensation in her stomach.

When she finally lets go of Chloe's wrist, she licks her lips and looks down at her stomach injury; while it's still a bloody mess of torn clothes and skin, she can tell that the bleeding has stopped and she thinks it might have closed up completely.

And then she looks up at Chloe, and she has no idea what to call the expression on the other girl's face. It's scared, shocked, alarmed, and most of all it's confused. The cogs turning in her brain, trying to piece the facts together, are almost tangible. Max opens her mouth to say something but no words come out because she doesn't know what to say. _What do you say to your best friend after you've just frantically drank her blood and then healed before her eyes? How do you explain that?_

Max doesn't even realize that her hands are shaking as she pulls herself to her feet with little effort; they're not shaking from fear or fatigue, though. Rather, the pure energy coursing through her is fresh and buzzing inside her with such a strong vigor that she's _trembling._ And then there's the metallic taste on her tongue, which is also strangely _sweet_ at the same time. Chloe just stands there, watching as Max awkwardly straightens her clothes to the best of her abilities. Unfortunately, a vampire's powers don't extend to magically fixing ripped and stained fabric.

It's only a few moments but it feels like forever before Max comes to a conclusion. _The truth. All of it. There's no sense in hiding it now, so I'll just tell her everything._ With that thought in mind, she looks the other girl in the eyes and says, "Well, you wanted to know what I was hiding so bad… here it is, Chloe." Then she reaches out to touch the blue-haired girl's arm and her heart sinks when she recoils away.

"I—I need to go," Chloe mumbles, shaking her head as she stumbles a few steps back.

"Wait," Max says, taking a step forward. "Chloe, let me explain, I'll tell y—"

But Max can only stare as the other girl shakily turns tail and runs off into the woods, her chest beginning to swell with a sad kind of ache. And nonetheless, through all the different things tumbling around in Max's head, there's a tiny yet terrible thought about how the taste Chloe's blood still seems to sizzle delightfully on her tongue.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hella bean spillage! This was one of the funnest chapters to write, so I hope you guys enjoyed it. Things get rough in the next few chapters, but I absolutely positively promise they get better! Also, I'm replying to reviews and dropping random rambles and story updates on my tumblr, so be sure to check that out if you're interested. There's a link in my profile.**


	7. Chapter Six

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

She doesn't stop running until she's somehow made her way back to the street where her truck is parked. Shaky breaths burn in her lungs as Chloe unlocks the pickup before climbing up into the seat, where she finds herself trying to still her racing heart. The image of Max only mere minutes ago is emblazoned into her retinas. The other girl _has fangs_. Chloe can't erase the picture of her friend there, looking up at her with a bit of blood on her lips still, sharp canines poking out from her mouth.

Chloe's gaze wanders down to her right wrist. The stinging sensation there is dull and barely even a whisper, but she can't help but notice how the wound doesn't look as though it were inflicted no more than five minutes ago. Instead, it looks like it's already beginning to scab over. She shakes her head. "What the actual _fuck_?" she mutters to herself, feebly trying to wrap her head around everything.

There's a suspicion floating around in her thoughts, but she refuses to grasp it because it's beyond her boundaries of realism. She doesn't give herself the luxury of entertaining the idea.

Chloe drives herself home, shaken, trying to focus on the road in front of her alone. At one point she nearly rear-ends the driver in front of her, and it's all she can do to keep herself from having a wreck. When she finally makes it and pulls up in her driveway, she makes a beeline for the door and then slips inside, making way to her bedroom. At the top of the stairs her phone chirps and even though she knows who it is, she takes a peek anyway.

 **Max:** _Chloe..._

She promptly shuts the device off before shoving it back in her pocket and stepping into her room. Once she's inside, she slams the door shut and throws herself on her bed, grunting. It feels like she's a glass statue that's one crack away from shattering. Her head is such a frothing hurricane of scrambled thoughts and unfinished conclusions that she can't makes sense of what's what. The overwhelming sense of helplessness to sort through everything threatens to drown her.

Chloe wishes she could just lay all the pieces of the mystery out before her to solve like a jigsaw puzzle. Unfortunately for her, brains don't exactly work that way, but she would be damned if she doesn't intend to try.

"Okay," she whispers, running both her hands through her hair. Part of her wonders if everything that just happened was some kind of sick dream; she can't help but question if it's a demented and twisted reality of her own creation. It's cliché, but she reaches down and pinches herself on the arm just to make sure. When the action results in a sharp but quick little jolt of pain, she groans again. "What the fuck?" she reiterates to herself before sitting up.

She needs to organize her own thoughts before her head explodes. There's an admittedly big part of her that's begging to just blaze and forget about it all for a little bit, but she's not sure even the most potent weed could fix—or even lessen—the maelstrom that is her head at this moment. Then the other piece of her head actually _wants_ to sort everything out.

 _After all, you_ did _want to know the truth,_ the voice in her brain says sarcastically. _She'll explain if you just let her._

Chloe shakes her head again. No, she needs time to herself and the mere idea of having to face Max makes her head feel like it might pop. It's bad enough as it is; she can feel the early works of a headache beginning to make themselves known and she gets up to go to the bathroom.

She opens up the medicine cabinet and rummages around until she finds a bottle of generic OTC painkillers. Chloe pops two of them down her throat before returning to her bedroom, slumping into the chair at her desk with a sigh. Some piece of her is hung up and tangled in a net of self-pity; she can't stop wondering _why?_ She wants to know why crazy shit always seems to come crawling from the depths of Hell just to torment her and fuck her life up.

Then again, she doesn't even know _what_ this is, so technically it can't ruin anything at the moment. Despite that, it's certainly managed to do a number on what she thought was reality, coming along and snatching her by the ankles and lifting her upside down. Resting her head against her left hand, she takes a deep breath and can't resist the urge to take another peek at her wrist. However, doing so only adds another bucket of gasoline to the fire, because now the wound _is_ scabbed over. She brings the injury closer to her face to inspect it, and it's funny how she almost has a more difficult time comprehending this than all the shit that happened earlier.

Running a thumb over it, she blinks when part of the scab begins to peel off, revealing a fresh but fully healed scar beneath. "That's n-not possible," she stammers quietly, tearing her eyes away from her wrist. Honestly though, not even an hour ago her best friend had been sucking the blood out of that very same wound... and then miraculously recovered from what looked like a near-fatal injury right before her eyes. So really, this shouldn't shock Chloe a bit.

But it does. It punches her in the gut like a sack of bricks, slamming her in the stomach and making her feel on the verge of hurling. Then her phone buzzes and she jumps, startled out of her skin like a cat. Once again, despite knowing who it's from, she looks at the screen.

 **Max:** _Chloe, please._

This time she not only ignores the message, but powers the phone off completely before tossing it onto a pile of dirty clothes. She doesn't want to talk to Max right now. She _can't._

For a long time she just sits there at her desk, turning all the different pieces of evidence over in her mind's eye. In all truth, she'd _known_ from the moment she got back in her truck what Max is, but only now that she's had a little time to sit and process does she start to actually _consider_ the fact. It's surreal and impossible, but she's seen it with her own eyes. And even if the events of the day weren't enough to convince her, the proof is right there on Chloe's wrist.

The word flickers across her thoughts, but she isn't quite ready to think it out loud yet.

In retrospect, it's kind of obvious, really. All the signs are there, if only she'd known to _look_ for them. A dry sort of laugh bubbles out of her throat then. She'd pinned all of Max's strange little mannerisms down to just weird little quirks unique to the girl, but that's not the case, is it? The way she refuses to enter without being invited first, her seeming lack of need for sleep, her favorite weather being any kind that doesn't involve the sun... and now that Chloe thinks about it, she doesn't recall any mirrors in Max's dorm room either.

Then there's the glaringly obvious sign plastered right in front of her face. _She drank my blood_ , she thinks, unable to shake the insanity of it all.

But she still doesn't know what was in that case that night, and her brain takes another sudden twist in a different, even less appealing direction. It's clear that the other girl needs blood for sustenance, but that leaves Chloe with the question of _where_ Max gets her supply. Her thoughts unhelpfully supply images of her best friend killing and drinking the blood of innocent people, and she stuffs her face in her hands.

It's too much for Chloe to handle.

She finds herself unable to resist the call of her little tin of pot then, and the rest of the evening is spent staring up at the ceiling until she eventually falls asleep. And unsurprisingly enough, her mind doesn't once manage to escape the thunderous hurricane and thrashing storm that it's become.

* * *

She literally does not touch her phone until two days have elapsed, and when she finally works up the courage to turn the device on, it immediately begins blowing up in her hands. Once it's done freaking out, Chloe sits down on the edge of her bed to assess the damage. Really, it's not as bad as it could have been. There are six new text messages from Max, three missed phone calls, and a single voice mail. Chloe opens up the messages and looks over them.

The oldest two are from that first day, followed by three that were sent yesterday, and the most recent one shows a time stamp from today.

 **Max:** _I'll explain._

 **Max:** _Although you're smarter than you give yourself credit for. You've probably figured it out already, huh?_

 **Max:** _I hope you don't hate me._

 **Max:** _Chloe._

 **Max:** _We need to talk..._

 **Max:** _Please don't hate me._

Chloe sighs, setting the phone down and rubbing her face in her hands. Sure, she _knows_ what Max is, but she still doesn't feel like it's real and she's having a hard time coming to terms with it. She can utter the words in her head a countless number of times while telling herself that it's a fact, but it's futile in changing the ridiculous surreal nature of it all. Nonetheless, she grabs her phone again and with hesitant fingers, she types out a short reply.

 **Chloe:** _i dont hate u_

A response comes back no less than a minute later, but Chloe doesn't look at it yet. Instead, she gets up and pulls on a clean set of clothes, her thoughts humming. In all honestly, it wouldn't be unfair of her to hate Max. She has a valid list of reasons and excuses to resent the other girl. But... the mere idea sends a resounding pang of sadness through her. How could she ever possibly hate Max Caulfield, the girl who's never failed to have faith in her and looks at her like she's the best fucking person in the world?

The smallest of minuscule smiles flickers across her lips.

Despite everything that's happened, Chloe can't even fathom a reality in which she hates the other girl. She might be angry and upset, but permanent and true hatred for Max is something she doubts she's capable of. Huffing out a sigh, she grabs her keys before going downstairs and making way for the door. Once she's outside, she makes a beeline for her truck, climbing in and sitting behind the wheel. That's when she pulls out her phone. The new message from Max is sitting there, waiting for her.

 **Max:** _Let's talk. Please._

Chloe sits there for a long while, just staring at the words on the screen. Eventually she types up a reply and hits the send button.

 **Chloe:** _two whales. 15 mins. dont u dare be fucking late_

The reply is almost instantaneous.

 **Max:** _Never._

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry this is late... I haven't been writing lately, but I feel that I should at least update considering that I have a bunch of chapters written ahead. Apologies that it's a short one though. If it's any consolation, I have at least one other Pricefield AU in the works right now...**


	8. Chapter Seven

**Disclaimer: I do not own Life is Strange or any of its characters. This story is for entertainment only.**

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

She can't stop fidgeting. Her fingers tap against the table in an endless routine, drumming along the surface as she waits for Chloe to show up. In fact, Max feels as though she hasn't stopped moving from the moment _that_ happened in the forest. She hasn't slept a single second since, nor has she been able to study. Even though she has two finals today, she can't even find it in herself to care or worry about them, despite how panicked she'd been about them only a few days ago. The thought sends a dry chuckle up her throat.

Glancing at the clock on her phone, she admittedly hopes that she and Chloe can wrap this up before she needs to be back at Blackwell, but she still has almost an hour and a half before her first class begins so she doubts it'll be an issue. At the same time, she's prepared to stay with the girl as long as it possibly takes for them to work out the kinks that all this has inevitably caused. Her priorities are set, clearly.

Even now, after a couple of days have passed, it still feels ridiculously unreal. There's a part of Max that wonders if any of this actually happened. Then that makes her think about how if it's surreal for her, then it must seem like a bad pipe dream for Chloe. Max sighs as she takes a drink of her coffee; the caffeinated beverage is honestly the only thing she's been able to consume the past two days without feeling sick. Everything else sounds absolutely unappealing, and she had told Joyce this when she came along asking for her order; that'd resulted in a concerned look accompanied by a brief comment about hoping she felt better soon. _Yeah, I hope so too._

Chloe's five minutes late now and of course Max hasn't received a text, and she's left wondering if it's just the usual amount of lateness or if the other girl decided to bail. Max discards finger tapping in favor of bouncing her leg anxiously, sighing through her teeth. After a few minutes, she combines the two nervous acts together, unable to help herself.

Almost another ten minutes pass and she's just about to send a likely futile text when the door chimes and a head of blue walks in. And Max's heart stutters for a second as a shock wave of nerves jump throughout her. The feeling of pure anticipation sits like a rock in the pit of her stomach and for a wild moment she actually decides that she _doesn't_ want to talk to Chloe, and that fleeing the diner seems like a much more appealing idea. But it passes and she watches as Chloe approaches and slides into the booth across from her.

Max hasn't exactly planned the conversation out in her head, like the idiot she is. "Hey," she says lamely.

"Don't 'hey' me," Chloe snaps at her, but then it's immediately followed by a grunt. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Max replies, looking away. The silence that follows is so weird that the awkwardness is almost tangible. Chloe's the one who speaks after a few moments.

"Is this really—did this really fucking happen?" she asks.

Max looks up at her then, staring her in the face. "Yeah," she exhales. "It did."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

The first thing that flashes through Max's mind is incredulously at the question. Isn't it blatantly obvious why? But then she sees the expression on Chloe's face and her heart slips again. No one else would have been able to detect it, but Max can. Right below the surface is the faint trace of hurt and betrayal, carefully hidden but still peeking through, visible to her and likely only her.

"Chloe... I couldn't," Max says softly. She doesn't even know how to articulate it; she wishes she could just telepathically convey her emotions and reasoning to the other girl.

"I'm your best friend though. I could have handled it."

"But Chloe, look how you responded. You ignored me for two days straight."

"Boo-fucking-hoo," Chloe sneers. Then her voice raises as she continues on. "Maybe I wouldn't have reacted that way if you hadn't fallen off a fucking cliff and then asked me to fuc—"

"I know, I know," Max interjects before things can get out of hand. "You have every right to be pissed. I'm sorry."

"For the record, I'm still hella freaked the fuck out," Chloe mutters under her breath. Then she snatches the coffee mug on the table and takes a long sip out of it before slapping the cup back down. That's when something catches Max's eye and she grabs Chloe's wrist, looking down at it and blinking in surprise. Where a wound should have been, there's only a perfectly healed scar: a ghost of what had happened, a permanent mark to signal a memory. She runs a thumb over it.

"That's new," Max says quietly, and she's silently thankful Chloe doesn't pull away.

"What do you mean?"

"There's no way that would have been healed already under normal conditions," she replies, still rubbing her finger over the mark.

"Oh, yeah," she huffs. "That also contributed to the breakdown I totally had the other night."

Max frowns. "I didn't want you to find out, Chloe. Much less... like this."

"So you weren't going to tell me." It's a statement, not a question.

Guilt pokes through her again at that line and the wounded look on Chloe's face. Truthfully, Max doesn't know. She had _never_ been entirely sure what she wanted to do. "I certainly considered it," Max says, looking down at her hands. It sounds pitiful, even to her ears. "I _wanted_ to, I swear."

"But you didn't. Because you don't _trust me,_ " Chloe replies, frowning.

"Come on, that's not fair, Chloe. I've never told anyone about this. You're the _only_ person who knows now." Then her thoughts flicker to Mr. Jefferson and that awful sense of unease flashes through her. She certainly _hopes_ that Chloe is the only one who knows, and that's something she never imagined she'd be thinking to herself.

"That doesn't change the fact that you didn't plan on telling me," the blue-haired girl says sharply, her voice beginning to rise again.

"Chloe, _please_."

"Okay, whatever. I've had enough of this," she huffs, moving to get up. Max grabs her wrist though, looking the other girl in the eyes.

"Wait—"

"No Max, I can't take this shit. It's too much, even for me."

With a painful likeness to the scene that'd taken place just a couple days prior, Max is forced to watch as the blue-haired girl stands up and hastily makes her way out of the diner. Except this time, instead of blind shock and confusion written on Chloe's face, there's hurt and anger there. It prickles uncomfortably in Max's stomach and her heart thumps heavily in her chest as she sits there, just wishing she could make everything okay again.

* * *

She's both horrified yet incredibly relieved when the bell rings, startling her out of her intense testing mode. With a deep breath of resignation, she flips the thick packet of paper over and tries not to think about how she was only three-quarters finished with it, and how the likelihood of her having bombed that final was very plausible. It was impossible though, attempting to focus when all her thoughts would throw at her were images of Chloe and the hurt painted on her face.

Max internally groans, gathering up her things before making her way to the door, plopping the test on the teacher's desk alongside the other students slowly filtering out of class. _It's okay, Max. Mr. Jefferson's class is next. That should be... fine._

She doesn't waste anytime shuffling to his class. There's still ten minutes before the bell rings, and she wants to just sit down and try to collect herself for a few moments. She tries to avoid Mr. Jefferson's gaze when she slips into the classroom, but naturally he spots her and immediately approaches her. Something inside her—some instinct—flutters in panic for a moment until she reminds herself that everything is _okay._

"Max!"

"Good afternoon, Mr. Jefferson," she says politely, awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot.

"No need to be so formal," he replies, smiling at her. "You're free to call me Mark."

"Oh, uh. That's... that's alright. Thanks though," she stammers, trying to figure out what he's getting at. It feels weird. The way he's looking at her; it reminds Max of that first time he started going off about odd shit, and in turn, her stomach churns with unease.

"Anyway," he continues, that eerie smile still playing on his lips. "I have some things I'd like to discuss with you, Max. Mind sticking around after class for a bit?"

 _Oh no, it's just like last time,_ she thinks, the pit of her stomach dropping a little. "S-sure," she almost chokes before darting to her desk. _Calm the fuck down, Max,_ she mentally hisses at herself. Really, she doesn't have a reason to feel so panicked, like an animal backed up into a corner. There's just something about Mr. Jefferson that feels _off_. She'd hoped so much that she'd been imagining it that day the previous week, that nothing like that would ever happen again... but here it was again, that terrifying feeling clawing at her insides.

She tries not to think about it as the class drags on at an impossibly slow pace. Max mutters little reassuring lines to herself in her head. _He's just going to pester you about getting your work out there. Or he wants to know what you plan on doing after the school year is over. Yeah. It's cool, Max._

When the bell rings, she wants to dart out the door, but knows she won't be able to. Victoria tries to chat with Mr. Jefferson like usual, but he dismisses her and she leaves with a little sneer on her face. It's not until everyone is out of the class that he leans against his desk and gestures for Max to come over. It's like anvils are tied to her feet as she walks up to him.

"So," he says, drawing the word out. "Max. I'd like to talk about your _true_ nature."

She stares at him, heart thumping uncomfortably in her throat. "What... what do you mean?"

It would be impossible to convince her that time doesn't slow down at that moment. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, the nanoseconds seem borderline tangible as the following events come to pass. It's unlike anything she's experienced before and she wishes that it would stop, because the way her throat begins to constrict with an unknown tightness makes he queasy and her desire to flee only heightens.

Because his thin smile turns into a toothy grin, things stop moving in slow motion, and then her brain stops as it attempts to comprehend what she sees. There are fangs there. Two very sharp, clear-as-day, fangs just like her own. They're there for about a second before they're gone and he's talking again.

"We're a lot more alike that I'm sure you ever imagined, Max."

She wants to reply, but she doesn't know what to say. Her mental processing abilities jumped out the window and now she can't seem to find anything to respond with, so instead her mouth hangs open a little bit but words do not fall out. Then he reaches out to put a hand on her shoulder, and she flinches away. He sighs.

"Listen, I know it's a lot to take in," he starts, his expression sympathetic. Her stomach is rolling and she feels like she might throw up. "How about dinner at my place, tomorrow if that sounds good? I can tell you everything you could possibly need to know."

 _What? Dinner?_ For a terrible moment she can't even understand what those simple words mean. Slowly, her thoughts begin to catch up, and they're nothing but panicked and freaked out. Yet there's a very small piece of sanity still clinging on, and it's an odd flurry of terror but also curiosity. She's spent years thinking about what she is, trying to figure out why and how everything happened the way it did... and now there's someone who might be able to supply some of the answers she's always wanted. It would either be very wise, or very foolish to refuse. She isn't entirely sure which is accurate.

"O-okay," she blurts, backing up, fully prepared to dart out the door. Before she can though, his arm shoots out and grabs her arm and then he looks her in the eyes. His voice seems to resonate all around her when he speaks.

"I'll pick you up in parking lot after school tomorrow. You can't run from me, Max Caulfield. And I promise, by the time this is all over... you won't want to."

She rips herself from his grip then and stumbles out the classroom door, where she then makes a prompt beeline for the bathrooms. Max doesn't—or rather, can't—bring her attention to anything else. The students still loitering around, the fact that people are throwing her nasty looks because of the way she's shoving past them, or the way David scoffs in a less-than-polite way when she passes him... none of that even registers in her mind.

When she's in the bathroom, there's no one at the sinks but she doesn't bother checking the stalls to see if the entire room is empty or not. She just goes for the stall on the far end, slipping inside and slamming the door shut before turning around to lean against it. A cold sheen of sweat covers her forehead as she tries to slow the flow of adrenaline in her veins and quench the terrible feeling in her stomach.

Then something overcomes her, and she's on her knees at the porcelain, throwing up over the edge. All that comes out is the little bit of coffee from the morning and from there on out it's just dry heaves into the toilet. It's one of the worst things she's felt in a long time. In fact, the last time she had felt this sick, to the point of actually hurling, was... before she was a vampire.

That thought doesn't makes things better. Instead, she finds herself gripping the edge of the toilet even harder as her body retches, trying to expel a non-existent spirit from her gut.

When it finally stops, she shakily rises to her feet, her lips trembling like leaves in the autumn wind. A few long minutes pass until she's pretty sure it's done for good, and she steps outside the stall and looks around. There's certainly no one out here now, and she sighs a quiet huff of relief. It's odd, but somehow the vomiting actually succeeded in making her feel a little better. At least, thoughts about Jefferson and the events of the past day didn't seem quite as bad compared to the physical spell she'd just experienced.

She waits a few more minutes, splashes cold water on her face, and then waits some more until she's positive she's feeling better. Granted, "better" just means she no longer feels like she's on the verge of attempting to throw up all of her insides; she's still thoroughly freaked out. Finally, when she exits the girls' bathroom, she doesn't bother going to class, entirely unable to give a shit about the remaining final she has for the day.

 _I can... take it later..._ she quietly murmurs to herself in her head. Max steps outside and squints as the overwhelmingly bright sunlight hits her, and she awkwardly pulls her shades out of her bag and slips them on before continuing to the Prescott Dormitories. It's still ridiculously bright and unpleasant, but it's honestly on the bottom on her list of concerns at the moment.

It's funny how, despite her ever-growing list of problems and things to address, Chloe is still up there at the top. Jefferson is a very, very close second, but a little voice in the back of her head chuckles at how Chloe will always sit up there, the utmost of her priorities.

It feels like ages before she's finally made it back inside the dormitories and to her room, but once she's safely inside the comfort of her "home," she locks the door and collapses on her bed. She's not tired. Of course she's not. But nonetheless, she's mentally exhausted in a way hasn't been familiar with in a long time, and she finds herself wishing she could fall asleep like a normal human could.

After staring at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes or so, in a broken daze, she pulls out her phone.

 **Max:** _Chloe. Please give me the chance to explain fully? Shit's happening and fuck, I really need you right now._

She hesitates before sending it, biting her bottom lip as she contemplates her wording, before eventually sending it anyway. She's not entirely surprised by the complete lack of response an hour later though; the other girl had been pretty pissed off at the diner that morning. Nonetheless, an odd pang of both annoyance and sadness shoot through her at the fact that Chloe doesn't respond.

Max spends the rest of the day with her head in her hands, trying to figure out what to do and how her life had boiled down to the current mess that it was over the past few days. She finds that a conclusion to both questions is not easy to find.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Ahhhhhh... I haven't been writing. I suppose that's why I wrote several chapters ahead, so I'd have something to post if I were desperate. I'm so sorry to those of you who were expecting things to be good between Max and Chloe in this chapter. Things get a bit dark after this... but they're on good terms again by chapter nine, so there's that!**

 **And thank you everyone for the kind words and reviews. It means the absolute world to me.**


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